


heresy and its wantings

by rievu



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Religious Conflict, and when you die knowing that you have what you needed most, spoilers for episode 6 chaos in the cathedral, when you start off by asking for what you thought you wanted most
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rievu/pseuds/rievu
Summary: When the Sugar-Plum Fairy first comes for Lapin Cadbury, he is already dressed in the whisper-thin shadows of heresy.// how lapin cadbury fulfills his three wishes for the sugar-plum fairy
Relationships: Lapin Cadbury & The Sugar Plum Fairy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	heresy and its wantings

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for episode 6: chaos in the cathedral  
> i'm also liberally making up lapin's backstory at this point lmao

When the Sugar-Plum Fairy first comes for Lapin Cadbury, he is already dressed in the whisper-thin shadows of heresy.

He has little respect for either the Bulb or the myths surrounding the Sweetening Path. Perhaps an excuse can be made for his youth. After all, Lapin is young — still young enough to be bold and daring — and does not quiver in the face of a secretive legend that still flickers in the edges of the kingdom. Lapin merely flicks a chocolate ear arrogantly at the fairy. “So,” he says. “You’re here. What for?”

There are four large and glistening indigo eyes that blink at the sound of Lapin’s words, and the Sugar-Plum Fairy tilts her head to the side to regard Lapin carefully. “Why, Lapin Cadbury,” she says in a voice that sounds like snapping peppermint. “Such bold words. Are you not surprised? Not suspicious?”

Lapin smoothes down the lapels of his coat and evenly replies, “You have to be here for a reason. You must want something from me. If you wanted to surprise me, you might as well hide the stench of the sugar plums before approaching. Surely you can do something about that, can’t you? The legends make you sound powerful enough to do so if you wished. Unless…” Lapin trails off and arches a brow. “You’re not?” he dares to say.

For a moment, the scent of sugar plums intensifies around Lapin, and something flashes in the fairy’s eyes. He can’t deny the fact that she’s a beautiful apparition, but in that moment, there is something hungry and dangerous carved into the planes of the fairy’s face. He wonders if he went a touch too far, but again, he is young and he does not fear the Bulb nor the Sugar-Plum Fairy. 

Then, the Sugar-Plum Fairy laughs. It’s a tinkling sound that grates against Lapin’s sensitive ears, and he wrinkles his nose. “Bold bunny,” she says after her laughter subsides. “I like you. Well, why would you say that I want something from you? Perhaps I merely wanted to visit one of the sweet citizens that reside in my lands.”

That’s a simple question, and Lapin scoffs, “Everyone wants something, whether they be Candian, Ceresian, Fructeran, or even a fairy like you.” He gestures vaguely over to the Sugar-Plum’s fairy’s long dragonfly wings and long sharp-nailed fingers. “This for that, that for this, the equilibrium of exchange. It is a basic principle. _Surely_ you must grasp at least that.”

“You’re a rather refreshing one, aren’t you?” the fairy says. “I would have expected such sharp words from a peppermint or lemon drop.”

Lapin rolls his eyes and drawls, “ _Please_ don’t demean me like that. Comparisons to lemon drops are insults at best.”

The fairy smiles, but it simply makes her look sharper and toothier. The sugar plum leaves of her dress flare out with the soft breeze, and the sugary scent washes over Lapin again and again. “Well then,” she says in her musically eerie voice. “I have come to ask a favor from you, Lapin Cadbury, and yes, in your words, I can offer something to exchange.”

“What do you have to give?” Lapin challenges. There is so much that he wants, so much that he desires, so much that he hungers for. Knowledge about decades past, shaking hands with those in power and holding that for himself, sitting in the seats of those that arc high above the common people. These are the things that he wants, or at least, what he _thinks_ he wants. After all, he is bold, but he is still a young rabbit that knows little outside the chocolate flutter-thump beats of his heart and his half-formed wants in his mind. 

The fairy leans in and whispers, as if she were telling him a secret, “Anything you desire. All I ask for is three wishes from you, bold bunny.”

Lapin Cadbury couldn’t possibly care about anything else in the world except for himself, and he’s perfectly fine and comfortable with that simple fact. Three wishes doesn’t seem that much compared to anything that he could want in the world.

So, Lapin reaches up and grabs the fairy’s hand. Her eyes widen — she must have not been expecting it — and he says, low and hard, “I want knowledge, I want power, I want everything that I have ever wanted. Give that to me, and I will give you your three wishes.”

The fairy’s hand tightens on Lapin’s own paw, and her sugar-tipped nails dig into the chocolate of Lapin’s paw. Purple magic begins to cloud over between the two of them, and Lapin watches with wide eyes as something glows between their palms pressed together. “Very well then, Lapin Cadbury,” the Sugar-Plum Fairy says. Her voice seems to resonate and layer over each other in multiple, fracturing voices. “I accept your desire and bind you as one of my own. Henceforth, you shall bear my powers in exchange for three wishes. Walk forth on my Sweetening Path and carry on.”

Lapin can barely smell the scent of his own chocolate over the sickening stench of sugar plums, and now, he can hear thousands of small bells tinkling over and over. The fairy’s fingernails dig even deeper in his palm, making chocolate blood well up in small crescents. However, her eyes fixate on his own, trapping him in a gaze that is nothing but liquid indigo. He feels dizzy, and his legs go weak. He almost falls over, but the fairy steadies him. The indigo and purple fades slowly around him, but the purple settles and thickens over his paws. The Sugar-Plum Fairy slowly extricates her fingers from his, but then, she inspects his paws. “Go on, try to heal that,” she says with a small tut. 

Lapin blinks blearily at his hand and wonders what she means. It would be _nice_ if his paw was whole, but the fairy’s nails were so sharp. As soon as the idea of his paw being whole crosses his mind, something tugs at the bottom of his gut. Lapin hesitantly waves his other paw over his bleeding palm and watches as purple magic blooms over the cuts and heals them with nary a scar. It's a neat trick. Lapin doesn’t know what use he has for healing, but the feeling in his gut rises and spreads through his body. The magic lends him more strength than he’s ever felt in his life, and he can feel the sparkling energy fizz along the edges of his fingertips. It feels exhilarating, and Lapin looks up at the fairy with a small laugh.

“Good, good, the magic’s coming in nicely,” the fairy murmurs.

Lapin brushes off some powdered sugar off his coat and looks back up at the fairy to ask, “Well, what is your first wish then?”

The fairy taps a single razor nail against her tulle dress, scattering sugar everywhere, as she thinks. “Would you be very put off if I asked you to start caring as one of the wishes?” the fairy muses. 

Lapin visibly shudders at the very mention of the wish. “You’re going to waste a wish on such a nonsensical request?” he asks. “Again, Sugar-Plum Fairy, don’t demean yourself like this by asking for something like that.”

“I suppose that’ll come eventually,” the fairy sighs. “It was worth a try. Very well then, Lapin Cadbury. As my first wish, I would like you to build one of my Sweetening Circles nearby Castle Candy. There is a particular space there that I enjoy, but I would like a better conduit to visit the nearby area with. Can you grant me that wish, my bold bunny?”

Near Castle Candy? Lapin resists the urge to groan. Even if the four sisters and the errant youngest brother of the House Rocks are out gallivanting on their great Ravening War, it doesn’t mean he can go building things willy-nilly near their castle. “Where,” he finally asks. “And how?”

“You’ll know when you get there. Have you seen some of my circles before?” the fairy asks. 

Lapin shrugs. He’s heard of them before, and the stories talk about standing stones and things that go bump in the night. The fairy smiles, and now, Lapin can see that her teeth are razor-edged. “Well, that should be enough,” she says. “Make me a home, Lapin Cadbury, within the reach of Castle Candy. That is my first wish.”

Lapin feels something tightening around his hands, and this is precisely the moment where he feels like he has been bound. Bound by his own words and his own choice, of course. He would not do it any other way. But still. Bound.

So he travels. He moves by night and sleeps during the day. Or at least, he tries to sleep during the day. The sounds of war wrack the very earth, and the clanging of swords and shields resonate. It spurs him to move even faster. He hides his tracks with magic and covers his scent with cotton candy and spun sugar. There are supply lines criss-crossing Candia. Both resources and the dead (or soon to be dead) are shuttled along. There are some bodies that make it back to families. The rest are taken off battlefields and buried in mass graves off the side of the road. Houses and shops in nearly every village and town are converted into makeshift shelters, smiths, and hospitals. Lapin only ducks his head down, hides his face, and keeps moving. 

Finally, he makes it to the woods nearby Castle Candy. He dares not go any closer. Night unfurls its wings across the pink-streaked sky and hides Lapin as he searches and searches and searches. He has little frame of reference as to what exactly to do here. He’s heard stories about the Sweetening Path. It’s hard not to. Every mother in Candia warns her children not to stray too far from the house and to avoid angering the Sugar-Plum Fairy lest the worst befalls you. Evidently, Lapin never listened to those stories enough.

Lapin circles around and around until he wanders into a clearing, out of breath and out of patience. He has no idea how to “build a home” for the damn fairy. Does she expect him to drag pounds upon pounds of boulders from the Great Stone Candy Mountains? 

Frustration finally drives him to slam his chocolate paws down onto the loamy earth. Indigo flares around him in a bright corona before it surges into the ground. Around Lapin, the earth begins to shake, and large stones begin to rise out of the shaking, churning ground. The scent of sugar plums grows sharp before the scent of spun sugar and chocolate replaces it.

Lapin’s chest heaves as he breathes heavily, paws still braced against the earth. Magic still flickers around him, and he sways a bit.

The stones come to halt, and now, they ring around him. They tower over him, casting shadows over half of his face. He blearily looks up and swears he can hear the tinkling laughter of the Sugar-Plum Fairy.

But the work is done. The first wish is granted. Lapin leans back and stares at the darkening sky above his head. All in all, the trade seems fair so far. This wish was certainly a hassle, but if the rest of the wishes were like this, it probably seems manageable enough and with none of the caring nonsense that the fairy tried to bring up.

If only he knew what the next wishes would entail.

* * *

“Oh, get close to the Rocks family, she said, you’ll get power and knowledge and the rest of what you desire by the side of the royal family, she said,” Lapin mutters under his breath. “Pity she never mentioned how many _buffoons_ are by their sides as well.”

Lapin hates everything.

The first wish was bothersome enough, but this? He knows that he’s getting exactly what he asked for, but he asked for that when he was younger and foolish. He asked for power, including the power to be gained from royals and politics, but now that he’s in the thick of things, he’s decidedly frustrated. Now, he has to be the babysitter and pretend to have faith for a thing that he has little respect for. 

“Lapin, Lapin!” one of the little princesses calls out. She comes toddling up to Lapin with her dress all stained with purple grass and holds out her hand with a slightly squashed candy bug. “I accidentally squished it. Fix it, Lapin, fix it!”

“How absolutely dreadful,” Lapin says in the most deadpan voice he can muster up. “You squashed a bug.”

Princess Ruby of House Rocks, First of Her Name, Duchess of Piehole and Lady of the Realm, starts to stick her lip out and quiver. Her eyes grow round and her voice shakes as she says, “B-but Lapin, the bug!”

Her sister, Jet, comes up to Lapin with her dress even more stained than Ruby’s. Lapin didn’t think it was physically possible to imbue that many stains onto a single piece of fabric from grass alone. She crosses her arms and says defiantly, “Fix it, Lapin!!” 

Lapin might have been more impressed had the order not come from the mouth of a child whose voice still cracked every now and then.

“Lapin,” a voice whispers in his ear. It almost grates with how tinkling it is. “I asked you to watch over the Rocks family.”

“I was hired as a royal tutor, not a babysitter,” Lapin bites back. It’s a quiet, muttered thing that the princesses thankfully don’t notice. While they’re busy poking at the squashed bug, Lapin glances over to see a brief flutter of dragonfly wings and a flash of indigo. “You cannot be serious,” he says.

There is no reply.

Lapin heaves out a long and heavy breath before he pulls up the sleeves of his long robe signifying his role as primogen. It’s a new addition to his wardrobe that’s both ostentatious and satisfying. He never thought he’d be hailed as a primogen of the Bulbian church, but his silver-tongued lies have gotten him far enough to the castle gates. Why not the church as well? 

“Come here, princesses,” he says waspishly. Ruby and Jet both look up, and grins split both of their identical lips wide open as he bends over the bug. Lapin shuts his eyes and lets the now-familiar magic wash over the small bug. He has no idea how actual church members channel magic, but he stitches life back into the bug with wispy purple magic. The twins ooh and aah as the bug weakly flutters its wings. Then, they burst into full cheers when the bug takes flight and escapes from the princesses’ grabby hands. 

“Princesses!” a voice bellows out. Lapin wants to let out a full groan at the sound. The large goon, otherwise known as Sir Theobald Gumbar, has once again arrived to dampen his day.

The knight lumbers closer with the usual exasperated look on his face, and his armor clanks loudly with each step he takes. “Princesses!” he repeats. The princesses blatantly ignore him, and so, Theobald turns his gaze to Lapin. “I _thought_ you were supposed to be teaching them their day’s lessons, _Chancellor Lapin,”_ he grits out.

“Perhaps if you ever took the time to listen to anything aside from your meaningless guard reports, you would’ve known that today was the princesses’ day to learn about the flora and fauna of their own kingdom,” Lapin returns with a short snap. He tilts his head at precisely the right angle and rolls his eyes because he knows that’ll irritate the knight the most. “What better place to educate them on this matter than in the castle gardens?” he asks, almost innocently. “I believe the last thing you criticized my excellent teaching skills on was the lack of practical application.”

“And is this what you call education, Chancellor?” Theobald shoots back. He gestures to the princesses’ skirts which are absolutely filthy by this point. “The girls are just running around and ruining their dresses.”

It hasn’t been the first either, but instead of mentioning that, Lapin says, “Well, Sir Gumbar, would you rather have them run off to Dolcington yet again? At least they are still here in the same place rather than sneaking off behind your very back.” He covers his mouth with his paw in a mock gasp. “Oh, I forgot. That happened to you, did it not?”

Theobald draws himself up to his full height — which is still shorter than Lapin — and bites out, “Chancellor.”

“Sir Gumbar,” Lapin returns blithely. The large goon seems to be fumbling with his words with his huff of frustration, so Lapin says, “Well then, if you have nothing else to say to waste my time, I shall continue with the quality education that I continue to give the princesses of House Rocks.”

Before Theobald can say anything, Princess Jet begins to run towards Theobald and launches herself at the knight as she cries out, “Theo! Theo! Teach me how to do a killing blow!” She manages to jump surprisingly high compared to her small height, and she latches onto Theobald’s armor and thumps it for good measure.

“Princess Jet, you know what your mother, the queen, thinks about that,” Sir Gumbar tries. “Her Royal Majesty would —”

“But Theeeeeeo,” Jet says as she blatantly cuts Theobald off. “My dad told us about how he used to do killing blows all the time! If my dad can do it, why can’t I?”

He tries to set Jet down and opens his mouth to speak, but just when he bends down, Ruby grabs his other arm and whines, “Theo, I want to _paint._ Can I pretty please paint your armor? I’m going to be the best artist ever, and painting your armor and making you new sigils is going to help _so_ much with that.”

“Princess Ruby, I thought you wanted to be a sailor last week,” Theobald sighs. Lapin stifles a laugh at the sight of the knight being mobbed by the twins. He has one princess on each arm, and while one tries to scrabble and punch at him for a “killing” blow, the other leaves muddy, smudgy fingerprints all over Theobald’s newly polished armor. How delightful. The princesses’ mischief has some use after all.

“I know, I know,” Ruby says. “But this is going to stick, I promise!”

Jet reels back for one more punch but misses. It doesn’t faze her though, and she crows, “Theo, the killing blow!”

“Well, Sir Gumbar,” Lapin says. He takes a step back from them and drawls,”You seem to be occupied. My lesson for the princesses is very much done for the day, so I shall entrust you with them while I resume my duties for the church. Good day.”

Without waiting for Theobald’s reply, he sweeps his robes back and strides back to the church. He can hear the knight distantly bellow out his name, but Lapin is beyond the point of caring. Even if he doesn’t believe in the Bulb, the church is still a quiet refuge from the number of buffoons filling Castle Candy. From the inept Tartguard to the absolute frustration that is Sir Theobald Gumbar, Lapin wonders how Candia is surviving.

Well, he knows the answer to that. Queen Caramelinda is the one force tying this whole shitshow together with nothing but sheer willpower. Everyone knows that King Amethar has little interest in ruling. 

Lapin exhales out a long breath and passes by the statue of Saint Citrina to slump in his favorite pew. It’s the one that’s the least-used, so the cushioned seat still has some softness left to it. He leans back and glares balefully at the stained glass windows. “Wonderful,” he mutters. “A primogen and a tutor, and for what? Power? Knowledge? Riches? Fame? Princesses who barely spare the time to listen to what I have to teach, knowledge that is wasted on fools, riches that will never be spent, and a name brought to the pontifex herself.”

“It _is_ what you wanted,” a voice says.

Lapin rolls his eyes. “And what heresy do we have here?” he says dryly. 

The Sugar-Plum fairy isn’t really here. Lapin can sense a small wisp of her power here. It’s nothing like the full apparition she was when she first manifested in front of him and the few times after that. Once after he granted her first wish and once when she came to ask him for her second wish. It was a wish to watch over the Rocks family. Lapin thought it was silly and foolhardy, but the fairy insisted.

“I thought you liked heresy,” the fairy murmurs. Indigo mist pours from behind Lapin’s back to coalesce in front of him. It forms a sparse outline of the fairy: multiple wings, the flare of her skirt, the shape of her hands. However, it’s a featureless apparition, and Lapin can’t discern much aside from the tone of the words she speaks. 

“It’s not heresy that I necessarily enjoy,” Lapin returns. “I simply think that the Bulb is a waste of my time.”

“Now, who’s the heretic now?” the fairy chuckles. The apparition floats forward and curls her misty hand around Lapin’s chocolate cheek. “You’re doing quite well for yourself, Lapin. You are quite the excellent liar. A primogen of the church?”

“It doesn’t take much for a foolish, empty-headed villager to believe that a simple magic trick is the by-product of a god,” Lapin replies. He raises his paw and lets a small flicker of light dance above it. “You made sure of that.”

“Oh, _I_ did? I think that was all entirely you,” the fairy tells him. “You are quite the capable servant. I chose well. And in return, you have everything you ever wanted. Knowledge and power, all in your hands.” 

In truth, the fairy’s right. Queen Caramelinda pays him handsomely to tutor the princesses, and his role as miracle-worker, primogen, and chaplain within the church means that he’s almost untouchable in Candia. Not even the king could tamper with his power lest he brook an argument with the Pontifex and Hierophant Rex, Belizabeth Brassica, herself. He’s never really had a long and extended conversation with the woman herself, but Lapin feels relatively secure hiding in the shadow of the church. 

But was it worth it? Was it worth all the effort and the mind-numbing hours he has to spend within the castle walls? He’s not sure. Parties at court quickly lost their sparkle, and now he’s bored. The very position that makes him untouchable now made it so much more difficult for him to leave. The fairy has tied him down to a singular place, and he resents her for that. 

“Now, now, Lapin, don’t give me that look,” the fairy croons. The mist swirls around Lapin’s shoulders, and the scent of sugar plums intensifies. “You know I care, and it seems to me that you’re starting to as well.”

“Care?” Lapin echoes. A short bark of mirthless laughter escapes him as he scoffs, “You think I _care_ about this meaningless family?” 

“I do see everything, Lapin,” the fairy says. “Especially after you were _so_ kind enough to build me a circle so close to the castle.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have built it then,” he snaps. “It was certainly a pain to build.” 

He can’t help but think about what the fairy said though. Lapin thinks back to the squashed bug and quickly dismisses the thought. He did it because the princesses would’ve become a severe annoyance had he not done anything. Besides, there is very little in the world he cares about aside from himself. 

“You’re wrong, Lapin,” the fairy says in a sing-song voice. Lapin scowls at the mist, but the only response to that is a tinkling laugh that grates against his nerves. Just before the fairy departs and leaves him alone in the church, she whispers, “You’ll see what I mean soon enough, clever rabbit.”

* * *

When the Sugar-Plum comes for Lapin Cadbury for the last time, he finds that he has nothing else but heresy left to his name.

In the cathedral, surrounded by so much iconography, Lapin comes to the conclusion that the Bulb is truly a mindless, empty thing. There is nothing there: no intellect, sapience, or awareness. Nothing to care about and nothing to care for. When Lapin looks at the Pontifex, he finds that the same applies there too. She truly doesn’t care about anything other than herself, and her connection to the Bulb is that: a lack of care for anything other than herself and her own benefits. 

The Bulb is empty. The sermons are false. The god has no compassion. And the fairy is there.

Lapin almost laughs. Of course the fairy is here. How could she not? The Sugar-Plum fairy was never one to renege on anything, and she held onto that last, final wish with a brutal sort of stubbornness.

Time seems to slow down to a treacle-slow flow, and Lapin blearily watches the Pontifex’s lips curl as she looks down on him. But the fairy whispers in his ear, “I asked you to care once.”

“You did,” Lapin manages to think. His thoughts feel so scattered with each ooze of chocolate that bleeds out of his wounds. Above him, the cathedral’s high arched ceiling seem infinitely far away, and the sunlight streaming through the stained glass colors his vision. He swear he can see purple behind the halo of light surrounding the Pontifex and Sir Keradin. Perhaps it is indeed purple instead of cold white.

“And look at you now,” the fairy continues. “You cared.”

Lapin forces out a bloody smile. “I did not.”

“Liar.”

The response is short, but it is the bold-faced truth. Lapin always skirted away from truth. He never liked the black and white nature of it, and his words always danced from half-truth to half-lie in the blink of an eye. “I was always good at lying,” he tells the fairy.

“You always were, but look at yourself,” the Sugar-Plum fairy murmurs. He feels a soft hand brush along his forehead. It’s cool and refreshing to the touch, and he shuts his eyes to avoid acknowledging the fairy’s words. She continues, “You cared so much that you followed them here and died to save them all.”

Instead of replying yes or no, Lapin says, “I fulfilled your second wish.”

“Look at you, little silver-tongued rabbit,” the fairy chuckles. “Lying to me and most importantly, lying to yourself. Yes, you fulfilled my wish, but only _you_ could’ve saved them all. Instead of hiding in the shadows cast by the church, you chose to step out and save that knight and child.” Now, the purple light condenses into something resembling the face of the Sugar-Plum Fairy. She’s smiling at him as she says, “You put yourself in danger time after time. That is not fulfilling a wish, Lapin Cadbury. That is compassion. That is the kind of caring I once asked of you so long ago and the kind of caring that you once refused me.”

Lapin barely has the strength to reply to the fairy anymore, but now, the Pontifex’s voice sounds out like a clarion as she says, “Heretic apostate, warlock of the Sugar-Plum Fairy, do you have any last words?” Sir Keradin’s face remains impassive as he stands above Lapin with his weapon at the ready.

Lapin glances between the two of them and smiles for one last time. The Bulb doesn’t care, and the Pontifex certainly does not care for anyone aside from herself and her own selfish wants. Lapin understands that; he’s a selfish man himself. But the fairy did say something with a grain of truth. 

He cares. He truly does. All the power and riches and knowledge would be a poor substitute for it. His death will mean something because he died for something beyond himself and his own self-serving wants and desires. He asked for power from the Sugar-Plum Fairy, but she gave him more than that. Will the Pontifex live longer than him? Will she win for this day? Yes, but at least Lapin knows that his death will _mean_ something more.

His lips twitch upward, and he bites out, “The Bulb cares for no one.”

The Pontifex’s face turns livid, and Sir Keradin brings his weapon crashing down. The last thing that Lapin hears though is the fairy’s voice saying, “They wouldn’t have survived this without you. My third wish is for you to come _home.”_

Lapin smiles. He may be a heretic, but he was always a capable, albeit reluctant, servant. And so, Lapin Cadbury dies and comes home, dressed in the whisper-thin shadows of heresy and with satisfaction.

**Author's Note:**

> where is your bulb now


End file.
